


Valentine and White

by JamesPeppersalt



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Asian-American Character, Diamond City, F/M, Nick Valentine Detective Agency, Synths (Humans), The Commonwealth, railroad, the Institute (Fallout)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-09
Updated: 2016-03-12
Packaged: 2018-05-26 08:27:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6231454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JamesPeppersalt/pseuds/JamesPeppersalt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nick Valentine is the companion of choice of DiAngelo White, the Sole Survivor of Vault 111. But how exactly does the synth detective feel about the choices she makes, and, more importantly, the former vault dweller herself?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Valentine and White

**Author's Note:**

> I'VE HAD THIS MULLING AROUND IN MY HEAD FOR A LONG TIME OKAY?!  
> Also I found out like ten seconds ago that people ship Nicky with Hancock. Too bad my one of my other Sole Survivors already romanced Hancock... (by the way, A Ghoulish Romance is comin' your way soon...)

Nick was, as of this day,  _not_ a fan of Vaults whatsoever. 

Pacing around his underground prison, occasionally passing a glance at the bobblehead next to the computer monitor, he mumbled to himself. He figured there was no hope for him now- Skinny Malone and his Femme Fatale had gotten him. He'd gone through the holotapes and the computer he didn't know how many times just to keep himself from going completely batty. This was a strange place- he'd already figured out years ago that most, if not all, Vaults were actually social experiments, concocted by the American Government; this particular one, Vault 114, was apparently designed to monitor the reactions of the Commonwealth's aristocrats when being introduced to poor living conditions. Interesting- and cruel. Vault Tech was a real piece of work.

He ignored the words of Dino- the guard that Malone had stationed outside of the room he was held captive in, and continued to pace.

"How you doin' in there, Valentine? Feelin' _hungry_? Want a _snack_?"

Nick rolled his eyes. "Keep talking, meathead. You're just giving Skinny Malone more time to think about how he's going to bump you off."

"Don't give me that crap, Valentine. You know nothin', you got nothin'."

"Really? I saw him writing your name down in that black book of his. ' _Lousy, cheating card shark_ ' I think were his exact words. Then he struck the name across three times."

"Three strikes? In the black book?" Dino said, panic rising in his voice. "But I never... oh no... I gotta smooth this over! Fast!"

He smirked as Dino turned to go around the corner- then stared in shock as his head was blown off.

"Nice shot, Blue!" he heard a familiar voice say. Piper- the quick-witted reporter from his Diamond City. But she couldn't have been the one to save him; no way she was that good of a sniper. He watched as Piper and another woman came into view of his window.

The new woman stared in- she was small, but looked like she'd seen quite a lot of fighting throughout the wasteland. She had almond-shaped amber eyes, elegant jet black hair that curled around her shoulders, and red, red lipstick and eye makeup that curled up near her eyebrows. Underneath her armor, she wore an all-too-familiar blue suit witha  less-than-familiar yellow number printed on it: 111. A Vault he'd never heard of.

"Hey, you!" he called to her. "I don't know who you are, but we got three minutes before they realize muscles-for-brains ain't coming back. Get this door open."

She nodded, smirking as she holstered her rifle and turning to the terminal. So, she had a hand for computers.

"There it is!" Piper chimed when the dweller had the door open. They burst in, a sight for Nick's (metaphorically) sore eyes.

Nick took a cigarette out of his pocket. "Gotta love the irony of the reverse damsel-in-distress scenario." Bringing it to his lips, he lit it. "Question is, why did our heroine risk life and limb for an old private eye?"

She gawked at him curiously. "What... are you?"

He was sick of this question. Like she didn't know what a synth was. "Told you, I'm a detective. Look, I know the skin and the metal parts ain't comforting, but it's not important right now. The only thing that matters is why you went to all this trouble to cut me loose."

She pursed her red, red lips, despair suddenly creeping onto her face. "My baby is missing. His name's Shaun. He was kidnapped, but I don't know who took him, or where they went."

This poor woman... Not a lot to go on, but this woman... there was a look of unfathomable sorrow in her face, something he could ever understand. He felt compelled to help her, no matter the cost.

"A missing kid, huh? Well, you came to the right man, if not the right place."

She smiled, a little hope filling her features.

"I've been cooped up in here for weeks," Nick continued. "Turns out the runaway daughter I came here to find wasn't kidnapped. She's Skinny Malone's new flame, and she's got a mean streak. Anyway, you got troubles, and I'm glad to help. But now ain't the time Let's blow this joint. Then we'll talk." He dropped his cigarette on the ground and stepped on it, putting it out.

"Piper?" The woman called.

"Still in one piece." The spunky reporter grinned at him. "Nick's the finest sleuth in the Commonwealth. If anyone can help you find your son, it's him."

Nick chuckled ever so slightly.

"Alright. Let's- oh, wait!" Nick's rescuer suddenly turned on her heel and marched to the desk, picking up the bobblehead. "Ooh, the Speech Bobblehead. _Nice_." Nick and Piper stared as she pocketed it. "Sorry. I just feel like they're good luck. Also..." she turned to Nick. "The name's DiAngelo. DiAngelo White."

***

"Well, that could have been easier," DiAngelo remarked.

They were surrounded by the bodies of raiders, who'd been too stupid to take a hint upon seeing their strange duo. Di had taken nearly all of them out before they'd even reached the pair; she was still ever the skilled sniper.

Nick groaned, standing. He hadn't been so lucky. Dodging grenades was _not_ his forte. "If you see any pieces of my legs, pick them up."

"Ha, ha. The old robot jokes never get old, truly."

"Wise-ass."

"No, really." She passed him a Stimpak and reached out her hand. "They don't."

His joints creaked as she helped him to his feet. "Oh, wow. Maybe you need some oil. I picked some up on the way here."

"Of course you did."

She grinned. "Stop it! You never know when it could be useful! Just yesterday, I upgraded Felicity with duct tape, an alarm clock and miscellaneous garbage."

Felicity was one of Di's sniper rifles. All of her weapons had names, for some reason- he knew that there was Felicity, a .50 Recon Rifle; Beverly, an instigating Combat Rifle; Reba II (he had no clue where she'd gotten that one, she'd come back with Cait one day and told a long tale about Salem and an impressive amount of Mirelurks), along with others that she sometimes found.

"As long as you're carrying it," Nick gave in, shrugging.

DiAngelo smiled and stared at him with her angled amber eyes. Her eyes may have been filled with more and more hope as the days went on, but they never lost that sadness. Even when they'd tracked and killed Kellogg, when he'd watched her face fill with fury and despair and for the first time ever saw tears cascading down her face, her eyes reflected the sorrow of a forlorn mother missing her child.

But she was getting closer. _They_ were getting closer, he thought- he'd been travelling with her long enough to say that. She'd found Kellogg, she'd followed the Freedom Trail, she'd joined the Railroad- and she had almost found her son.

But he didn't know why she was still travelling with this old bot when she could be off somewhere else, when she was so close to finding her son.

"Natick," she said suddenly, breaking him out of his contemplative fog.

It _was_ Natick. He hadn't known they'd been heading here.

" _And_ Raiders. Of course it's Raiders." She dodged behind a building, Nick following suit. He pulled his pistol from his trench coat, and she gripped Felicity with both hands.

"I don't want to engage them," she said over the sound of speeding bullets. "I saw one in power armor, and another with grenades."

Of course there was. "Just how many grenades are we talking?"

"A _lot_. Of grenades."

"How wonderful."

"Yeah. I know." She hopped up. "Well, we might as well get the show on the road!"

She raced around the building and sped past, rolling out of the line of fire and behind another building. Nick sighed and turned, shooting from the side of the building, drawing the fire from Di. The Raiders took the bait and stopped tossing grenades at her just in time for her to speed out of their range.

DiAngelo owed him many, many cigarettes for this.

After nearly losing his arm (or what was left of it), he managed to get past the Raiders with the cheapest trick in the book- he repeated " _beep, beep, beep_ " until the scurried off. DiAngelo had laughed herself to tears when he'd told her he'd rescued the old mayor's daughter that way. He saw where she was sitting, crouched near a large wooden wall, and when she turned around and met his eyes, she put a finger to her lips.

Nick crouched down and crept towards her. "What's the sitch?"

The corner of her mouth twitched. He followed her gaze to what was behind the wall- and nearly oiled himself.

Deathclaw.

"What do we do?" he whispered. He honestly did not feel like meeting his Maker today- although technically, that would entail meeting the Institute scientists who'd created him.

She clenched her jaw and gulped, motioning for him to follow her as she inched forwards past an immense opening in the wall. He stayed close behind her, eyes trained on the gigantic beast.

As soon as they'd reached the other end of the opening, their was a ground-rumbling growl. They froze- if Nick could break into a cold sweat, this would be the time to. They held perfectly still as the deathclaw stormed out of the walled enclosure- and ran past them, turning the way they'd come from, and roaring.

DiAngelo let out a shaky breath. "Oh my God. I can't believe it. The Brotherhood of Douches."

Sure enough, the Brotherhood of Steel was there, engaging the deathclaw.

"I never thought I'd be so happy to see those bucketheads."

"And yet," DiAngelo laughed. "Come one, let's go before anyone sees us."

They continued to an old police department, a dilapidated little building that was almost one with the body of water it sat beside.

"It's almost fallen into Lake Cochituate," Di remarked. "We've got to be careful."

That was easy for her to say. She was an agile person. Nick was clunky and awkward. She easily jumped from floorboard to floorboard, to the stairs. Nick stayed where he could walk without fear of falling into the lake.

"Now where's the evidence locker...?"

Nick pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and lit it while Miss DiAngelo sifted through the Pre-War rubble.

"Valentine. Why do you smoke if you don't have _lungs_?" She called as she made her way back downstairs.

"Why not?" He put the lighter back into his pocket, mumbling, "enough of 'em to go around, anyway..."

"I've got it!"

He looked up to see her coming back towards him, slipping a holotape into one of the pouches on her chestpiece. She may not have been associated with the Brotherhood of Steel anymore, not after what happened with Danse, but she still wore the armor. He supposed it was just for how well it worked, but he still didn't understand why.

"What's that?" He asked. "Is that all we came here for?"

"Nope." She held up a book. "Also, this."

"A book?"

"I love books. Also, I _really_ want that copy of the Massachusetts Medical Journal in the library's terminal."

He sighed deeply as he followed her out of the building and they began to tread more carefully once again, the Brotherhood and the deathclaw now nowhere to be seen. DiAngelo was quite the eccentric one. But everyone loved her anyways.

**Author's Note:**

> No joke. A Raider gang and a deathclaw vs. Brotherhood of Racist Danderheads was my adventure in Natick. I hate my life.


End file.
